


The Ghosts in the Garden

by carrioncrowned, ElectraRhodes



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Ghosts, Hannigram - Freeform, M/M, Post TWOTL
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-13 14:59:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11762370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carrioncrowned/pseuds/carrioncrowned, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElectraRhodes/pseuds/ElectraRhodes
Summary: When Hannibal's favourite shirt goes missing he realises that after everything that's happened maybe he and Will are not alone.A post fall fic with warmth, humour, the mildest of reckonings and the best art ever...





	The Ghosts in the Garden

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Arydis_Hope](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arydis_Hope/gifts).



> [Click here for the tumblr post/image source!](https://carrioncrowned.tumblr.com/post/164017254131/the-ghosts-in-the-garden-a-hannibalcreative)  
>  
> 
> Gifted to arydis_hope with many thanks for a certain rec... and the prompt.
> 
>  
> 
> Yes, we're a little late. So are at least some of the characters....

The first time Hannibal notices something amiss it's all to do with his favourite baby-blue and passion-flower striped shirt. When he wears it Will always looks at him as though he might be god. And then usually proceeds to follow the look up with some quite decent worship.

“Will? Have you seen the belle-blue pinstripe?”

“Laundry”

“I've looked there. There's no sign”

Hannibal comes into the kitchen and looks over to where Will is sitting grumbling over the most recent speculation from TattleCrime.

“Will? The belle-blue?”

Will looks up at him,

“Did you send another recipe to Freddie, Hannibal? We talked about this. I thought we'd agreed?”

“Will? The shirt?”

Will pays slightly better attention, Hannibal standing in the kitchen dressed except for his shirt. It's an appealing sight.

“I still don't know. Sorry. Want me to help you find another? You know? In the bedroom?”

He grins and at first Hannibal is still too distracted to really register the dropped timbre of Will’s voice and careful survey.

“I'm supposed to be in the City in forty minutes. I can find a shirt. I just wondered… oh. In the bedroom? That's… thank you Will. Your assistance would be much appreciated”

Will slides off the kitchen bar stool.

“That's the fourth thing this month you’ve mislaid”

Hannibal frowns. It's true. He pauses just for a moment, what was that? Was that? Laughter?

………………….

“It's good Hannibal. Really. It's. Good”

“But not excellent?”

Will sighs. Of all the things he might have guessed of course it's his cooking that Hannibal gets just the tiniest bit insecure about. 

That cute little tum? Not a blip. The silver glints in his hair? Nuh uh. The murder and mayhem across three continents and the rabid chase after them? Nada. Even the fact that Will sort of, ok, did actually, chuck them off a cliff? Once past the recuperation, and the deep and meaningful conversations, and the resumption of certain, ahem, intimacies, not a people sausage! But even the teeniest hint of anything other than total praise and adulation about breakfast, lunch and supper and everything in between? Well for goodness sake you'd think the world had ended.

Hannibal watches Will’s face as he takes another mouthful.

“It's just a little, I'm not sure, salty maybe?”

“Salty?”

“Yeah. Briney. Not just because it’s sea food. Sorry. It's very good though. Really. And the vegetables are perfect”

He wishes he hadn't said a word as soon as he's opened his mouth as the plate is whisked away from him, mournfully he manages,

“I was enjoying that”

Hannibal takes a mouthful from Will’s plate and promptly rushes to the sink and spits it out. 

“That's appalling. You can't eat that! I'll make something else. I don't think even the vegetables can be saved”

Will watches rather wistfully as Hannibal scrapes his lunch into the compost caddy. Sighs. Resigns himself to a wait, although if it's an omelette that's ok. Hannibal makes great omelettes on the fly and if he's pissed he whisks extra hard and they're all frothy and light. And usually this translates into other frothy and light things later on!

Hannibal though considers, what on earth is going on? He didn't oversalt it. He's still pathologically careful about what he puts in his body. He hears, yes, for sure this time. A little laugh. Tinkly. And then another giggle, slightly deeper.

…………………..

In the garden Will stretches out on a blanket on the lawn and enjoys the sun’s warmth across his chest and arms. Perfect. Glass of lemonade. Cloudless blue sky. Small plate of nibbles. The sound of Hannibal humming to himself as he tends to some bit of the garden. 

He notes a slight change in the tempo and mood of whatever it is that Hannibal is humming. Not so much cheerful G major and more miserable as sin B minor.

“Hannibal?”

Hannibal doesn't answer at first, so Will, a little reluctantly, drags himself up. And follows the sound of the now definitely mournful dirge.

“Hannibal? What is it? Did the deer get in the root vegetables again? Or is it the rabbits? I could trap a few if you like? They won't hop fast.. oh, what's that?”

“I think someone has been in the garden”

“Yeah. I think you're right? What is that?”

“It's some sort of vegetable. Well. Installation? Maybe?”

The two men regard the display. A human figure set before them on one of the garden benches like one of Hannibal's elaborate murder tableau, but this one made entirely from fresh vegetables. 

“What's that eggplant doing? Is that meant to be?”

“I think it is. Will. I hate to ask. This isn't an elaborate, and may I say very pretty, piece of your work is it?”

Will puts his head to one side,

“Well, so you think that maybe I got up in the night came out here and picked veg for an hour or two and made them into a murder veggie bestie in the garden for you to find? Sorry Hannibal. Not my design”

“Someone's though?”

They look at each other then. Definite laughter.

“Did you hear that? Or am I hallucinating this time around?”

“Unless it's the whole folie a deux thing? I heard it too”

Hannibal looks around and ventures,

“Hello? Are you listening?…”

On the wind there's just the faintest whisper,

“Oooh. It's the man on the phone…”

And then an answering laugh.

…………………….

 

Back indoors in the kitchen Will and Hannibal look at each other.

“I think I was in the sun too long.”

“I think it was something we ate last night”

“I really don't think..”

“Nor do I. It can't be”

“She did come with me to Sicily”

“You didn't say so before!”

“I thought I was hallucinating her. You know. After..”

Hannibal nods. Whilst there might be a certain amount of scar aftercare and nuzzling and other related activity, they don't usually directly discuss the events of the evening it occurred. Painful for both of them. Albeit in different ways.

“Why now though?”

“Maybe? Maybe she just misses us? I mean. It's been a while. Perhaps she got lonely? Wanted people to talk to? Hang out with?”

“She's not alone though?”

“The other laugh?

“Indeed.”

“I've got an idea about that.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Oh.” He sighs, yeah, he has an idea. “I'll see if I can talk to them later”

“Really? You rather than me? Do you think it's possibly someone I know?”

“I think so. I think they're messing with you more than me. So. Maybe. Well. I'll ask. I've a good idea”

…………………..

Later, the same evening, Will sits out in the garden on the bench where the murder veggie bestie had been displayed. He takes a slow drink of his glass of wine. He'd never really been a fan but slowly, slowly, Hannibal is converting him. He smiles down into the golden green depths. A cool green drink for the end of a cool green day. Thinks of all the things that Hannibal is converting him to, over time.

“Hello ladies”

“Hello Will”

It's still a whisper. But it's there. And it's real.

“How you doing then?”

“Alright thanks”

“The shirt was a nice touch. You know it's his favourite”

There's a small snicker,

“He thinks it's his ‘pulling shirt’”

“I'm sure he does”

“He doesn't really need it does he?”

Will sighs, oh these two, they know him so well. Even after all this time. Especially after all this time. After all, he always could ‘see’, even if he has to have seen them alive before he can ever see them dead.

“Maybe lay off the grub though? That would have been a really nice meal”

Abigail giggles,

“But the food is the most fun to mess with!”

“I understand”

He pauses,

“I liked the murder vegetable man. I thought he'd get it straight away. What with the slicing and all. Actually that eggplant was good in parmigiana, so, thanks for that. And by the way I can hear you pouting”

Bev sighs,

“Damn. You ate his eggplant. Will that is some fucked us metaphor right there!”

“I know. It's true. But you know how it is, right?”

Both the women smile and nod, if he doesn't look directly at them he can just make out their ghostly shapes shimmering in the late evening daylight. What's left of it, and left of them.

“Still keeping out of the bedroom?”

“We did agree. Though the wardrobe is still fair game? Is that ok?”

Will smiles, they've got good ground rules. And really, these two keep all the others away. A sassy comment from Bev, a baleful look from Abigail? No one wants to risk it. Only Franklyn had tried. Grabby even in death. Fair enough. Probably. Will has a little shudder. Cheese folk indeed. For once he'd actually sympathised with Hannibal. Yeah. That's should have told him something right off.

“The wardrobe is all fair game. Hey. Did I mention it? There's an especially hairy green tie which Hannibal loves. Any chance of a little accident?”

“The one with the egg yolk weave? Because even I wouldn't be seen in it, and I'm dead already!”

“That's it. So. Maybe?”

“Sure Will. We're still here for you”

“Not everything on his terms then?”

“Dead right”

…………………….


End file.
